&fic;

 

This Shared Discontent

by sugargroupie

PG-13, 1277 words

Summary: he didn't have to say the word, this fear they both have.

Disclaimer: Not mine; O'Bannon, Henson, Kemper, et. al.

Notes: Takes place during season two, possibly with AU elements depending on your perspective. *g* Many thanks to Stars and Eclipse for whipping this into shape. Mistakes are mine.

.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .   .

He'd lain there for hours in his quarters in an effort to distance himself from his nightmares, hallucinating himself into paranoid boredom because he couldn't get back to sleep. He heard a DRD zip past his door; its sounds easy enough to decipher during the sleep cycle when nearly everyone was at rest.

Sometimes, it was too damned quiet on Moya.

John sat up, gave his pillow a half-hearted punch and threw it back on the bed. No sense in even attempting to go to sleep now. He could go to Zhaan's apothecary, mix up a sleep aid to snuff out the dreams that would either kill him or knock him out, but either way he'd get some much needed rest.

Chiana would be the perfect distraction, but for all John knew she was curled up against D'Argo - or worse - and he'd just as soon not walk in on the two of them again.

But Aeryn... could he risk it? He wanted to. John turned sharply at the figure lurking just beyond his vision and nodded to himself as he stood from the bed. It was getting more persistent, weighing heavily on his already frayed nerves, whispering in his mind like it had every right to do so. Sometimes John would catch glimpses of a hideous face that reminded him too much of Scorpius, but then it would disappear - leaving him unsettled and wondering if he was truly losing his mind.

Nah, he thought. Deep down, crazy people know they're crazy. I don't know what I am.

What John knew was that he was more than willing to risk Aeryn's wrath if it meant not having to focus on or even think about the shit going on in his head.

*

John rounded the corner to Aeryn's quarters to find her just about to enter her room as the cell door swished open. She was still dressed, and he felt a moment of apprehension clad in nothing more than a shirt and shorts. Something whispered to him, far too close for comfort. Not now, he almost called out, and stepped forward, forced himself not to swat at the imaginary breath tickling at his ear.

"Aeryn."

She turned immediately. John said her name again because it felt good to say; felt good knowing he wasn't inside his own screwed up head, but free to focus his attention elsewhere. On Aeryn, always on Aeryn.

"Crichton, what do you want? Why are you out of bed?"

He felt her eyes rake over him, knew she missed nothing of his appearance. He knew he looked tired, but he felt much worse.

"Couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come over for a visit." It dawned on him then, that she'd had command duty, and was probably near to crashing on her feet. I should let you sleep, he thought, but the words wouldn't come out of his mouth.

He saw the droop in her shoulders as Aeryn sighed and entered her room, and accepted her seemingly reluctant invitation by following her through the open door. "I'm going to bed, so your visit will have to wait until tomorrow."

Swiping his hand over the sensor, John waited for the door to snick shut before turning to face her again. Her eyebrows rose in question and her mouth tightened - annoyed, probably, because of him.

He rubbed his finger over his bottom lip and moved closer. "I can't sleep," he began slowly, and his words held a certain edge, a deeper meaning that he hoped he wouldn't have to explain. Aeryn tilted her head slightly, as if to better understand his words.

John shifted nervously as he considered what next to say, how much to reveal. He gave a little more. "It... won't. It's difficult to close my eyes, to sleep and not dream."

"It's getting worse," she surmised. He wanted to be proud of her; he was proud, because she was putting it together and maybe he wouldn't have to beg her to let him stay.

He closed the distance between them a little more, grateful when Aeryn didn't step back. "Can I stay... just for a while? I just don't want to be..."

He didn't have to say the word, this fear they both have. Alone.

"For a while," she finally agreed. Before he could react, she turned abruptly, heading for the bathing alcove. "I'm going to shower," she tossed over her shoulder left without a backwards glance.

John collapsed on Aeryn's bed, too relieved to reply.

*

Sometime after Aeryn had returned to keep him company John had managed to fall asleep lying across her bed, less than an arm's length from where she slept in a similar position. At the moment they lay facing each other. He blinked back the edges of sleep and inched closer to tangle his fingers gently in her hair, run his finger down her nose and press his thumb against her lips.

John felt her shoulder move beneath his arm. He opened his eyes to find her staring back, studying him, probably wondering what the frell he was doing. He didn't have it in him to apologize for being so close without her inviting it, for craving the way she grounded him simply by touch.

Shifting forward, he slid his nose alongside hers, lightly making contact. He sighed and trailed his thumb down her chin and throat; her skin cool against his fingers, her pulse steady and comforting. He splayed his fingers against the hollows of her collarbone and closed his eyes, thought he could fall asleep like this for the rest of his life if Aeryn let him.

His thoughts turned to the ridiculous: Hey baby, this isn't what it looks like, and his lips turned up in a slight smile before he could control the gesture.

They were close enough for him to feel her breath, to feel her lips move as she warned him in name only. "Crichton," she whispered, her voice whiskey smooth, like Southern Comfort down his throat, and it tasted like permission.

John closed his eyes again and answered with his mouth.

Her lips were dry but soft, and as he flicked his tongue hesitantly along her bottom lip her breathing changed. He opened his eyes to see her looking at him with an undecipherable gaze. Only when he pulled his mouth away did he realize his hand had migrated to her hip, resting on the smooth skin just beneath her shirt.

Aeryn turned over on her side to face him fully and licked her lips. He was nervous as hell, wondering what she was going to do next. Then she cupped the back of his neck, pulled his body tight against hers and kissed him deep and full as she stroked her tongue in his mouth. Aeryn, he thought, who kissed him with aggression and sleepy sweetness - navigating his mouth while her fingers scoped his body.

Short nails dug into the muscles of his back, raked across his backside. John moaned at the pressure, at the softness of her skin beneath his skimming fingers. He shoved one hand beneath the waistband of her briefs, laid it flat where her lower back curved into her ass. He took a moment to slow his breathing, temper the kiss before they progressed further. He pushed all questions of what this meant aside, because he knew how the story ended. Tonight, they'd fuck each other raw and later he'd have to pretend that he hadn't been so deep inside her he'd kissed daylight.

Aeryn deepened the kiss again and John sighed gently into her mouth, met the rush head on.

*

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